


Far From Home

by lunoxfreya (morrgais)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, barely any canon chars are mentioned sorry, hints of racism if you squint, there's no spoilers and it isn't THAT sad, unlike the entirety of ffxv itself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 08:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12931407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrgais/pseuds/lunoxfreya
Summary: She would have quit the Kingsglaive that day, found it all for nothing, if it wasn't for one kid.





	Far From Home

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another piece to add for the archives. The main OC within _Shattered_ , if you haven't read that. Sort of a character study I really got into.

Nothing’s changed.  
  
She didn’t know what she expected, but it definitely wasn’t more racial slurs, sharp glares, and dark mutters under hateful breaths. The word “Gally” is still heard, especially from people who think no one ever listens to what they say, when she can hear them loud and clear. Technically, she isn’t even from Galahd. It’s just the longest place she’d been able to live in. The only place that felt like home.  
  
Now she’s back in unknown territory, trying to make a name for herself. Trying to make another home. Yet all it feels like is hand-me-down clothes that are just one size too big, and no matter what she does—it never fits. Even this form-fitting Kingsglaive uniform doesn’t feel like it fits how it should. Isn’t black considered a color associated with royals? So why do they still continue to glare? Why do guards look down on them so much?  
  
It’s not like they wanted to be here. There was simply nowhere else to go. Niflheim’s taken everything else; it’s all they do. It’s all they know. They take and take and _take_. They’d been backed into a corner that they could either jump over—not really knowing exactly what was on the other side—or let the guns and blades of haunted machinery impale them to meet their gods. Insomnia is their only haven. Do they think they _want_  to be here? Among all these lights and cars and glamoured shops? Some of them never even _had_  cars.  
  
More and more these days Cara wonders what she fights for— _who_  she fights for. These Insomnians will never be grateful for these Glaives. They just want them to leave and go back where they came from. She had wanted to make herself useful, to repay the man who let them enter and stay in Insomnia in the first place—King Regis. He said he needed them to protect Insomnia, be the young warriors he knows they can be.  
  
But why protect something that might kick you to the ground or stab you in the back when the situation calls for it?  
  
She finds herself walking so fast that she collides into someone, and there’s a yelp before there’s an indignant exclamation of, “Hey! Watch where you’re goin’, lady!” That voice sounds incredibly young, much to Cara’s shock.  
  
Looking down, she finds someone even smaller than her, with darker skin than her own to be a shade of dark brown. They’re a little dirty, with unkempt hair and clothes too worn that look like they can rip apart at any moment. Bright brown eyes glare at Cara, followed with a pout.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Cara says. Which is shocking, for someone who is barely over five foot. Cara’s used to being shorter than everyone else. How could she not see them?  
  
The child scoffs, hands now on their hips. “That’s what they all say. Why can’t ya just—” The child’s voice dies down, and suddenly their eyes are wide saucers when taking a good look at Cara. “Are—Are you one of them?”  
  
The immediate wonderment following the child’s irritated tone of voice throws Cara off a bit. Her eyes glance down at her uniform, a bit confused, but then she realizes just what the child’s referring to. “Uh, yeah, I’m a Glaive if that’s what you’re wondering.”  
  
All past transgressions over the hard bump-in are forgotten in a flash by the child. “I’m Phoebe!”  
  
Cara glances around warily, wondering if she’s being pranked somehow, but then slowly nods her head. “Uh, nice to meet you. Name’s Cara.” Slowly, she finds herself crouching to Phoebe’s level. “Where are your parents?”  
  
Phoebe’s mouth becomes a thin line for a second. Her eyes glance down at her feet, worn sneakers barely hanging on. “Died when the Niffs came.”  
  
Cara’s heart feels cold and hard all of a sudden, dropping down into her stomach to send a small jolt through her veins. _A refugee_. Another one of them, not old enough to prove themselves with magic or enlist in the Glaives, but old enough to wander without a home.  
  
“ _But_! Me and a bunch of other kids stay with Cisca and her wife Elli.” Phoebe gasps excitedly. “The other kids will be _sooo_  jealous I met a Glaive.” If it’s at all possible, Cara swears Phoebe’s eyes grow even _wider_. She even gives a dramatic gasp that makes Cara jump in slight fright. “Ooh, ooh! Can you do the magic? I heard Glaives can do all sorts of magic.”  
  
“We do.” While she feels like she shouldn’t be answering that question, Cara doesn’t see why she shouldn’t either. Phoebe’s just a kid. She’s not their enemy. “Sometimes we use it to protect people and ourselves.”  
  
“And other times?”  
  
_Sharp one she is_.  
  
Those words make Cara smile widely. She glances around, making sure no one’s spying on them or wondering what they’re doing. While it’d make no sense for Drautos to wander around here, the irrational fear itches her mind quietly all the same. Seeing no one who could get her in trouble, Cara glances back to Phoebe. Biting her lip, Cara feels her hands warm up, and soon flames lick her skin and uniform. The fire reflects in Phoebe’s eyes, who gasps in wonderment and glee. Cara soon conjures up a little fireball and has it tossed back and forth between her hands. When she sees Phoebe become even more excited, Cara finds herself grinning in return—the happiness contagious.  
  
“ _Whoa_ ,” Phoebe whispers. While she looks older than nine or ten, even seems more mature than that, Cara can easily tell she’s still just a kid. A kid who’s had their childhood taken from them—but it isn’t too late to still have one, if only for a little while. Cara hopes someone has told Phoebe that. It’s not too late.  
  
“You gotta show that to the other kids!” adds Phoebe.  
  
Blinking, the young Glaive raises a brow at this random exclamation. “What? Other kids?”  
  
“Yeah. All the other kids who also stay with Cisca and Elli.” Without even asking and once Cara’s hands have gone back to normal, Phoebe grips one of them to pull her along. “C’mon! I’ll—wow, your hands are still warm—anyway, I’ll take you there! Elli’s out working, but Cisca will greet you. She’s less fun, but still nice.”  
  
That causes Cara to snort. Less fun, but still nice. _She’s already sounding better than our captain_.  
  
Before Cara can give any kind of answer, Phoebe’s already pulling her along, babbling about all the other kids they have there. Some have been there for a very long time. But, from the sound of it, Phoebe is one of the kids who has been there the longest. One of the first that was taken in by the older couple before the numbers grew to where they are now.  
  
Cara can tell as Phoebe babbles more while they pass through Insomnia that they’re hitting the area of much lower class civilians—even lower than the Glaives. (And, despite _their_  status, even the glaives know they’re not worth much to other civilians as outsiders.) Cara finds herself almost staggering to a stop, but Phoebe keeps pulling her along. The shock threatens to keep her still as she considers just how _bad_  it must be. Who cares for them? Does the king even know about this? Cara refuses to believe the king wouldn’t do anything if he knew. Is there not enough to help?  
  
The young glaive sees they are able to get by. Not all of them are in that much jeopardy, but Cara isn’t blind to the slums when she sees them. Worn down, dirty clothes. Shoes barely hanging on. Plenty of people coughing when they shouldn’t. Stuff you would never know is happening in Insomnia or other places, because plenty not in this situation sure love shoving this under the rug.  
  
“Phoebe! Where have you been?” A low, harsh voice calls out in a scolding manner. “Benny and Gael have been searching all over for you!”  
  
Phoebe appears completely unsurprised and quite satisfied with herself. “Cisca! Look, I met one of the Glaive!” It shows in her voice, which rises in pitch, and how she jumps up once with a large grin on her face.  
  
Cara merely stands there; Phoebe’s hand still grabbing one of her own. The woman in front of her has light beige skin and a tough, unyielding look to her. She appears to be shorter than Cara (which is baffling because Cara’s only 5’2” already). However, just one look at her and Cara knows even the Astrals would second guess in not answering this woman’s prayers in fear of her retaliating wrath.  
  
“Phoebe,” Cisca’s voice is still harsh. “What have I told you about talking to strangers and wandering outside of our district?” Her arms cross over each other as she makes her way closer to the two of them. Cara slowly shrinks back.  
  
Surprisingly, Phoebe is _still_  not bothered. The young girl even huffs. “I _was_  on my way back, but then I bumped into her and saw her uniform!”  
  
Cisca rolls her eyes with a huff. “‘I _was_ ,’ hmm? Your catch phrase. You say that, but do you do it? No.” Suddenly, it’s as if Cisca’s officially recognized Cara’s presence. “And what of you, hmm? Why are you so quiet?”  
  
It’s amazing how she’s actually terrified of this woman while someone like Drautos doesn’t frighten her in the slightest. “I—she—”  
  
“Glaive, are you?” Cisca’s eyes glance up and down her uniform.  
  
“Y-Yes.”  
  
“Where did you come from?”  
  
“Galahd.”  
  
“Hmm,” Cisca gives a thoughtful hum, before telling Cara where she’s from, which isn’t anywhere near Galahd that she knows of, but it’s outside of Insomnia and in Lucis all the same. “When did the Niffs take your home?”  
  
Cara isn’t sure if she can tell. “I don’t know. I used to count the days, but—” slowly they began to have little meaning and then no matter. She stopped counting when she started losing hope in ever reclaiming it one day. That hope flickers sometimes, but altogether she’s learned from experience to never bother carrying hope. If you hold on it too tight, it shatters anyway. It can also have a bit of weight on you that’s unwanted.  
  
Without a word, Cisca nods her head understandably, and then she glares at the person still in between them. “And what are you still doing here, hmm?”  
  
“Waiting for my punishment,” Phoebe retorts.  
  
_This kid is one definite smartass_. Cara has to disguise a laugh as a cough behind one of her hands, which still earns her a look from Cisca anyway before the older woman’s focus is back on Phoebe. “You’ll receive your punishment sooner if you don’t leave me and your new glaive friend alone. So go on! Go meet Elli inside!” She gestures for Phoebe to shoo.  
  
“Will I see you again?” Phoebe asks excitedly, glancing back up at Cara.  
  
Not knowing what to say, Cara dares to glance at Cisca, who just looks at her expectantly. Seeing she’d get no help from anyone, she dares to nod her head and give a reassuring smile at Phoebe. “Definitely.”  
  
Phoebe gives a toothy grin. “Cool! See ya, Cara!” She runs off, waving to Cara before completely racing off to who knows where within this district.  
  
It’s then Cara finally notices there’s really no one else around that are really children. The world around them is pretty quiet for the most part.  
  
“Our kids are inside with my wife,” Cisca answers for her, as if she knew that’d be the very next thing Cara would ask. “Getting lunch—one of the only times they’re barely quiet, but they’ll be back out here to liven the place up again.”  
  
Cara doesn’t really know what to say to that besides nodding her head. She can’t disagree that lunchtime can sometimes be the _only_  time some people are quiet. _Such as people like chatty as hell Pelna_.  
  
“She will hold you to it, you know.”  
  
The glaive raises a brow. “Hmm?”  
  
“Phoebe. If you tell her she’ll see you around, then you better be here.” Cara wonders if this stern look Cisca holds is just how her face looks all the time or if she’s actually _trying_  to keep it that way. Like it actually takes effort. “Many of us admire you Glaives, you know.”  
  
That’s shocking to someone who gets looked at funny sometimes even when wearing her uniform around people who know full well who the Glaives are. “What?”  
  
“The refugees who don’t want to fight by warping and throwing fireballs or whatever it is you do—we fight a different way. That, or some of us are too young to fight, maybe too old. Just can’t use the king’s magic no matter how hard we try. Or we’re too sick or disabled. Either way, many of us admire the Glaives. The children especially. It shows them that maybe one day they can make a difference. Fight for their homes, or at least still have hope of returning to theirs.”  
  
Honestly, Cara wonders if this Cisca is psychic or something. It’s as if she knew these were the exact words she’s been needing to hear for so long, after everything she’s endured as a refugee and a Glaive. Like she knew how much she’d been at her lowest point, reconsidering her stance as the fighter she is, wondering if it’s all worth it—  
  
“Anyway, I would say thanks to you for bringing Phoebe safely back here, but I’m more than positive she led you here.”  
  
All Cara does is nod. There’s no bother in trying to lie.  
  
“Just as I expected,” Cisca adds on.  
  
Before Cara can say something else, she watches as a whole _bunch_  of kids seem to appear out of nowhere! They come barreling her way with Phoebe leading them along, and Cisca looks about ready to tell them off until Cara watches as she breaks into chuckles, shaking her head. The glaive then braces herself, cringing slightly as they crowd around her. She looks to Cisca, silently asking for help, but the woman just shakes her head and waves her off.  
  
“Show them what you showed me!” Phoebe calls out, more or less putting Cara on the spot.  
  
Cara shakes her head with a laugh. “Oh, I’ll do better than that.”  
  
Focusing in on her magic, a snowball forms in one of Cara’s hands. She throws it up in the air a couple of times, each time going higher and higher. At one point, she throws it high enough that it bursts into pieces. They all fall like bits of snow, causing the children to reach out for them while giggling and laughing. It makes Cara not help but grin widely, encouraging her to do it again and again. It’s welcoming since their weather has been rather warm lately. She even spots Cisca giving a small smile at the display, along with another woman who has brown hair that’s braided, a much softer face, and the same color skin Cisca does, if only a little lighter. Her smile is a lot brighter than Cisca’s, but the fact they’re smiling all the same keeps Cara grinning.  
  
These people are still trying to survive, despite everything. They’ve lost much: people they loved, perhaps children, and of course their homes. Yet they continue on—surviving, maybe living. No matter how much this war has cost them, some continue to fight. They might not fight with daggers or magic or the ways of warping. They could fight the way Cisca and Elli do, take in the ones who aren’t sure what their home is anymore. Others could be like the children, still smiling in times of grief and hardship.  
  
These are the people Cara is fighting for. Not the Crown, not Insomnians, just—the ones with no home.

_For hearth and home_.


End file.
